Tu Es Ma Lumière

76 - Makeup

"No!" the young Queen of Scotland wined loudly, scrunching up her pretty face and turning from side to side, hiding it from the hand maidens' fingers that were loaded up with cosmetics. "Leave me alone!" she wailed, turning her face away as another woman tried to line the eight year old's eyes with charcoal.

Her pretty Dauphin laughed at the scene unfolding in front of him. How different Mary was to his sisters, who always plastered their lips and cheeks with their mothers' rouge whenever it was laid out. They seemed to enjoy having pink lips and cheeks, but not this girl. No, this girl kicked and flailed in retaliation at the mere thought of having to dress prettily and have her face covered in crushed berries. It was bad enough trying to get her in a long dress whenever there was a ball or a foreign dignitary that required best behaviour from the royal children. 

If there was something obvious about this girl, is that she didn't really act like a girl. Francis didn't know what it had been like in Scotland, if all girls didn't like makeup and dresses, but she certainly wasn't acting like the French little girls. This girl -a Queen, no less- loved nothing less than to kick off her shoes and run in muddy fields and jump in muddy puddles, getting the hem of her skirts tinted green from the grass or brown from the mud. She loved having her hair undone and wild, all over the place from running in the wind with Sterling, or when they and the noble children teamed up in the coldest autumn days to play football when the nannies tired of chasing them around all day.

And, although this amused him to no end, Mary throwing a fit at the mere attempt of wearing makeup -she wouldn't have her face covered in paint for anybody- the little Dauphin did wonder what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with this girl. If she'd be this ungirly and rebellious when they were old enough to face the priest and become one in the eyes of God. If she'd still muddy her skirts with ink stains or grass stains, if she'd still kick off her shoes whenever they'd become uncomfortable. She was still so different than all the other court little girls, still so entirely Scottish -something that always displeased his mother- so fiery and fearless and brave. She may not be the timid, mild mannered girl that he was told he'd need as a King, but now, she was a leap more fun to be around than any court little girl.

"No! Get away from me with that!" Mary yelped, kicking out as another handmaid tried to paint her lips with the rouge.

"Your Majesty," she said, exhausted. "please, the new Italian Envoy comes with the new Papal Emissary, you must look presentable. You are the future of our world!" she gasped out, gripping Mary's jaw, ignoring her wines and jerks of protest. Francis chuckled as Mary pouted when she was let go. She stared into the mirror blankly, sending deadly glares at the exhausted nursemaids who backed away from her to retrieve her gown for the day.

"I look ridiculous." Mary pouted, staring blankly into the mirror. Francis chuckled again, all dressed up for the day of courts' festivities. "Look at me!" she wined, turning to him. "I feel like a doll! A painted up little doll." she folded her arms and let them hit her ribs roughly, pouting at Francis deeply.

"Don't you dare do that," a nursemaid chastised when Mary reached with the back of her hands to try and wipe it off. "the Queen will lock you in your rooms for days if you cause animosity on such an important day." she reminded the Queen of Scotland.

"The Queen of France hates me, she'll punish me for not breathing in the right direction." Mary rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror. She felt utterly ridiculous. Her eyes were lined with black, her lips dark pink and her cheeks blurred a light pink. Because of her struggling and thrashing, her makeup didn't look amazing, but it was the best they could get with the stubborn Queen of Scotland. Her fiancee laughed, getting off her bed and walking over to her.

"Stop pouting." he teased, poking her nose. Mary wined at him. "You look fine." he stated. What he means is you look pretty, with or without the makeup. Not that he'd say that.

Mary seemed to know what he was trying to say. She gave him a long look, one of the ones that could leave him tounge tied, turning around to the handmaidens. She instantly began wailing in displeasure.

Oh no!

They had a gown for her to wear!

~~

Tell me little Mary wouldn't act like this!